Love in the Time of a Highland Laird (A Laird for All Time Book 3) by Angeline Fortin (bill gates books to read .TXT) 📕

inching along, coming closer. Though she longed to have him with her with every fiber of her being, she waved him back. He sank into the shadows out of sight.

Across the street, the little flame flared like a beacon then flickered. And died.

Any minute now.

She waited. Nothing.

Another armed soldier rounded the corner on the east end of the prison beyond Keir’s hiding place. He was coming closer and there was no way to warn him without alerting the patrolman.

Damn, why hadn’t the battery exploded yet?

Still nothing.

The knives must have shifted or something. She chewed her lip. It had to be that or the battery hadn’t taken enough of a charge from the Leyden Jar to short circuit at all.

Another glance down the street told her the soldier was almost straight across from Keir now. Surely, he would spot him any second. Their chance might be blown even if the battery wasn’t.

Her confidence built again. For Keir, she needed to remain strong and get this thing done. Sucking in a breath, she waited for the guard to turn away and ran across the street into the archway once more.

Damn, the straw hadn’t burned through! To hell with it. Snatching up the two wires, she twisted them together above the dangling knives, wincing at the static snap zipping through her.

“Shit that hurts,” she muttered under her breath.

She didn’t run immediately but waited to make sure it worked. How far away was the soldier? Did she dare peek around the corner?

Desperate, she glanced back at the bomb.

With a sigh of relief, she saw the rubber casing around the battery begin to swell with the gasses heating within. In just a few seconds…

Shhh-foomp!

Chapter 37

The explosion hadn’t been at all as he thought. Not the boom of a musket or the blast of a cannon. More a hiss followed by a bang that might have been a door slamming.

No one paid it any mind. Not the soldier passing by. Not his men.

No, it wasn’t the blast that snared Keir’s attention, it was Al’s cry of pain. Not even knowing what it was, the sound had yanked him like invisible chains from his hiding place. She was crouching near the archway cradling her arm. Heedless of how he might be exposing himself, he ran to her side and dropped to his knees.

“Are ye hurt, mo ghrá?”

“No, I’m fine. It was just a bit of plastic that hit me when it blew.” Twisting her arm around gently, he saw a charred hole in her sleeve, burned straight through to the angry wound on her upper arm. “I had to pull the plastic off. It stuck to me.” Her thumb and forefinger were blistering already. “You know, I think it actually hit me in the same spot as the knife. Nice, only one scar, huh?”

Foolish lass. He wanted to berate her for being near the explosive when it went off. For being here at all.

“Let me get ye oot of here.”

“No, you have to—Watch out!”

Whipping around, he found a burly, redcoated soldier looming over them, the bayonet extending from the end of his long musket wavering dangerously close.

“Oi! Who are ye? What are ye doing here abouts?”

He hadn’t heard the blast, or at least identified it for what it was, Keir realized. Dashing a glance at the prison door obscured by the dark, he saw there was no visible damage showing. The guard hadn’t any idea… yet, what they were about.

Rising slowly, he held up his hands. “Just oot for a walk. My wife fell. Can ye help?”

The moment the soldier’s gaze moved to Al, he acted. With both hands, he grabbed for the musket and tried to wrench it from the redcoat’s grip. He began to holler an alarm, so Keir jerked the musket down, dragging the soldier down as well. Releasing it, he thrust a hard right punch up, catching the soldier in the jaw and snapping him backward. Laying him onto his back in the street, groaning but conscious.

Putting a boot down in the center of the man’s chest, he loomed over him and used all his body weight to hit him once more. With a grunt, the soldier’s head lolled to the side.

He was out. The sounds of a scuffle had heads popping from the shadows up and down the street. His men. With a wave of his arm, the shadows began to move down the street toward them.

“I hae tae get ye oot of here,” he said to her, dragging the soldier deeper into the archway and out of sight.

“I’m fine. Check the door.”

He pushed on the door but it didn’t give. If they couldn’t get the door open, this was all for naught.

“Try again,” she urged, getting to her feet. “Harder. It might have only torqued the bolt.”

Rattling it a second time, he felt enough movement to give him encouragement needed to put his shoulder to it. With a steely whine, it swung inward.

“Go!”

She was once again trying to spur him into action but he knew before anything else, he needed to be assured of her safety.

His men were nearing. Waving them to gather in, he gazed around the eager group. “Quiet now, lads. Seems the company yonder disnae yet ken we’re here. Let’s keep it that way and get everyone oot quickly. Aye?”

But then, from within the prison, a voice rang out. “What’s going on? Who’s out there?”

Bugger it, he’d forgotten the guards inside. “Nay time tae waste, lads. Get tae it!”

They didn’t mind the brusque order. They’d come expecting a fight. Some of them were probably looking forward to it. Enthusiastically, they stormed through the door and almost immediately, muffled shouts of alarm and a scuffle sounded within. The clang of swords.

He scooped Al into his arms, and carried her quickly across the street. Saying, before she could bother, “Ye can do it yerself, I ken. But I’m taking ye back tae the inn.”

“No, you need to make sure your father is safe. I’m waiting